“Master, are you, are you very surprised,” Ling Rong regained a bit of clarity, and the red color in his eyes faded slightly.
He let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Just now, I lost my mind and wanted to kill you, but the immortal bone I placed inside your body actually protected you.”
Just after he finished speaking, a sudden surge of metallic sweetness rushed into Ling Rong’s throat. Warm blood snaked down the corner of his mouth, spreading into a large, ferocious patch of red plum blossoms across his black robe.
He staggered backward half a step.
Just now, he had nearly burned through his entire cultivation.
Sharp pangs of pain rippled through his sea of consciousness, as if countless silver needles were being ruthlessly driven into it.
From the exact moment Qing Gui died, every single time Ling Rong channeled a bit of his magic, he could feel his meridians burning as if roasted by a raging fire, and his internal organs fracturing piece by piece amidst agonizing pain,
The spiritual energy inside his body had not recovered at all, rather, he was using his life as a catalyst, casting spells by burning away his own lifespan.
When hatred overwhelmed his reason, Ling Rong had indeed thought about dragging Wen Pinglan down to the grave with him.
He wanted all their grievances and hatred to vanish into ashes inside this Demon Locking Tower.
But when that familiar golden light lit up in front of Wen Pinglan, and when he clearly sensed the resonance coming from his own immortal bone, Ling Rong still froze.
The agonizing pain of gouging out his bone to exchange lives a century ago seemed to explode in his chest once more. The warmth from his memory when Wen Pinglan solemnly handed Qing Gui and the jade pendant to him overlapped with the protective warmth of the immortal bone at this very moment.
He suddenly laughed, his broken laughter carrying a sense of self-mockery,
It turned out that even if he had fallen into a demon and transformed into a malevolent spirit, the instinct carved into his immortal bone was still protecting that person.
“Forget it,” a bloody sigh leaked from Ling Rong’s throat.
With a spraying sound, another mouthful of fresh blood erupted, carrying tiny fragments of internal tissue. Ling Rong’s body went limp, and he fell straight backward.
As his consciousness gradually blurred, he revealed a smile of relief.
Finally,
Finally, he could be free.
He no longer had to be bound by these shackles of interwoven love and hatred, and he no longer had to endure the excruciating pain of having his heart gouged and his bones eroded.
Only, it was a pity for Qing Gui.
Wen Pinglan’s pupils contracted violently. Watching that familiar figure fall like a kite with a broken string, his heart felt as though it was being ruthlessly squeezed by an invisible giant hand.
Almost instinctively, he rushed forward, firmly catching Ling Rong’s gradually softening body.
The person in his arms was frighteningly light. The spine that used to be upright in the past was now curved into a fragile arch, and the fresh blood continuously overflowing from the corner of his mouth stained his own robe red.
Wen Pinglan opened his mouth, his voice sounding as if it had been repeatedly rubbed by sandpaper, hoarse to the point of barely keeping a tune, “Why, why is your immortal bone inside my body,”
His trembling fingertips gently brushed across Ling Rong’s paper-pale cheek.
The sensation coming from the pads of his fingers was terrifyingly ice-cold, causing his heart to twitch violently along with it.
A blurry answer surged from the depths of his heart, making him both long to find out the truth and strike fear into his soul.
A hundred years ago, after being afflicted by the bone-eroding poison of the Demon Clan, he had been heavily injured and on the verge of death, yet he had miraculously preserved his life.
At that time, everyone said he was immensely blessed and fortunate, but thinking about it now, how could there be any luck bestowed by heaven,
He desperately wanted to hear the person in his arms state the truth with his own mouth, wanting Ling Rong to tell him exactly what happened in all of this.
Yet he was also terrified of hearing the answer, fearing that once it was confirmed, his persistence, anger, and hatred over the past century would all become a laughable farce.
If it really was Ling Rong who gouged out his own bone to exchange lives and save him, then how could he ever make up for his century of misunderstanding?
Could those master-disciple bonds that he had severed with his own hands, and the trust that he had ruthlessly crushed into pieces, ever be pieced back together again?
Wen Pinglan pulled his thoughts back, bloodshot veins appearing in his eyes, his voice carrying a trace of fragility that had never been there before, “Tell me, I beg you,”
He had never thought that one day, he would use such a nearly pleading tone to speak to the disciple he used to hate the most.
Ling Rong struggled to open his eyes, his unfocused pupils reflecting Wen Pinglan’s anxious face.
He wanted to speak, but the metallic sweetness surged in his throat, and every breath felt like tearing open the wounds inside his chest.
Ling Rong exerted great effort to part his lips, every single word sounding as if it was being violently gouged out from the deepest part of his chest, “Hate, I hate you,”
He hated Wen Pinglan’s decisiveness in cutting ties, hated that he destroyed Qing Gui with his own hands, and hated the misunderstanding and torture of the past century.
But at this very moment when his hatred was at its most intense, the scorching flame in the deepest part of his heart burned even brighter, turning all his hatred into soft, wrapping silk.
“Master, I,” his voice was as faint as a sigh in the wind, “love, you,”
These three words, he had hidden them in the depths of his heart for a century, enduring countless nights of tossing and turning, and bearing so much piercing, bone-eating pain, and now they were finally spoken aloud.
He had hated, and he had resented.
But at the final moment of his life, he realized that all hatred was no match for that single trace of deep attachment in his heart.
Tears mixed with blood slid down, and Ling Rong revealed a smile that was both relieved and bitter.
It turned out that when hatred reached its absolute limit, it became love, and when love reached its deepest depths, it was all pain.
,
Outside the tower, Mo Xuan tightly gripped the hilt of his sword, his gaze locked onto the direction of the Demon Locking Tower.
Since he left, the inside of the tower had fallen into a strange silence, and not a single ripple of spiritual energy came from it anymore.
The other elders could no longer contain themselves, and they stepped forward one after another to urge him.
“There is actually no movement at all inside here, which is highly suspicious.” Elder Ci Yan pinched his beard, his brows locked tight, his eyes filled with worry, “That Demon Venerable uses cruel and ruthless methods, and the Sect Master is all alone, I am afraid,”
Elder Qing Liu’s beautiful brows were tightly knitted as she bit her lower lip and said, “Could something have happened to the Sect Master? We cannot wait any longer!”
Elder Chen Xu abruptly drew his unsheathed sword, saying in a heavy voice, “That Demon Venerable is treacherous and cunning, and the Sect Master has also lost his immortal veins, he certainly cannot defeat him alone, let us hurry inside to assist him!”
A trace of hesitation flashed through Mo Xuan’s eyes, but seeing everyone’s eager looks, he ultimately nodded his head.
“Go!” He shouted loudly, taking the lead to rush into the Demon Locking Tower.
The scene inside the tower caused everyone to freeze on the spot.
They saw Wen Pinglan kneeling on the ground, tightly holding the faintly breathing Ling Rong in his arms.
Ling Rong’s face was as pale as paper, and the fresh blood from the corner of his mouth continuously dripped down, pooling into a small puddle of blood on the ground.
Meanwhile, in the depths of Wen Pinglan’s eyes, there was a panic and agony that had never been seen before.
“Mas, Master?” Mo Xuan murmured in disbelief, the sword in his hand nearly slipping out.
He had never seen Wen Pinglan lose his composure like this, that Master who was always cold, detached, and self-contained was actually acting like a helpless child at this moment, his face entirely filled with panic and regret.
Wen Pinglan slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, “All of you get out.”
His gaze never left Ling Rong for even a moment, as if fearing that the moment he shifted his eyes, the person in his arms would vanish, “This is between him and me.”
Mo Xuan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but when his gaze met Wen Pinglan’s ice-cold eyes, he silently closed his mouth.
He let out a soft sigh and led everyone to withdraw outside the tower.
The inside of the tower fell back into silence, leaving only the sound of Ling Rong’s faint breathing.
Wen Pinglan held the person even tighter, his chin resting against the top of Ling Rong’s head, his voice carrying an undetectable tremor, “I am sorry,”
These three words, he had held them in for a century, and now they were finally spoken aloud, yet they could not buy back even a single trace of a response from the person in his arms.